


(ad infinitum)

by Upupanyway



Series: Honest Mistake [3]
Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Fluffy Porn, Honeymoon, M/M, Marriage, Wedding Night, cis foggy nelson, cis matt murdock, fancy bathtub, like really saccharine, sorry folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26874424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Upupanyway/pseuds/Upupanyway
Summary: Matt and Foggy start their lives as a married couple.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: Honest Mistake [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1363447
Comments: 6
Kudos: 32





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**Author's Note:**

> hey it's whumptober which means i won't be doing any of that sad stuff and instead i'm gonna write probably the sappiest thing ever. it's been a year and a half since the last instalment of this version of these two, but they do have a happy marriage I promise.

Their honeymoon was a long weekend at a hotel just on the other side of Manhattan. They still had work on Monday, after all, and neither of them saw much sense in spending money on travel. They were, at heart, a pragmatic couple.

They hadn’t travelled far, about a twenty minute car ride from their apartment and five minutes from the venue of their tiny garden wedding, but the air did feel different, and whether it was because of the change in scenery or some magic effect of their brand-new union, their shoulders were strangely loose and their stomachs were gratifyingly full.

Foggy was nearly asleep in their pool-sized bathtub, sprinkled with honest-to-god petals in a gratuitous show of luxury. Scented oils hearkened something warm and well-spiced, languid and sensual.

“How’s the water?” Matt asked, bringing over two glasses of champagne and taking up his spot at the ledge. An end of his open bathrobe dipped low and soaked through.

“Really nice,” smiled Foggy, shaking himself of sleep. He took a flute and took a sip before nursing it at his chest, the cold bringing a bright contrast to the otherwise warm and steamy room. “There’s plenty of space, if you want to join me.”

Matt hummed and dipped his fingers in, letting them resurface to flick water at Foggy’s face, who only made a half-hearted attempt to save his drink, the rest of him already soaked as it was. His retaliation was also half-hearted and playful.

“Get in here, dude.”

“If you insist.” Matt stripped slowly, leaving the robe on the floor because neither of them were obligated to pick it up, not when they were happy newlyweds. He scooted his way along the wall straddling Foggy’s back and kicking lazily at the jets of the warbling jacuzzi.

Foggy looked up at him and smiled. Matt’s palms held his head preciously to his chest, and Foggy could swear he could almost hear the happy heartbeat through his skull. “Hello, there,” he said, sipping the sweet champagne.

“Hello, husband.” Matt smiled, dropping a kiss to Foggy’s forehead. The word was still alien to his tongue and thrilling. It felt like a swear word, it felt like a secret, it felt like a promise. He followed the curve of Foggy’s left arm until he got the hint and tangled their fingers together.

“And how are we feeling today?” Foggy asked earnestly, as if there weren’t a clear answer.

“Spectacular,” he breathed.

A song blasted its tinny rendition of Herb Alpert from the sink and it was hard not to be affected, as cheesy as it was. Matt swayed his shoulders to the brass notes, dragging Foggy along with him in a half-assed recreation of their first dance just a few hours ago, what felt like a lifetime. The comfortable warmth between them was sacred. Their union was blessed because Foggy laughed differently around him than anyone else, and being the steward of that glorious sound was the honour bestowed upon him.

Suddenly, Foggy moved forward, guiding Matt’s bum down the smooth wall of the tub to sit just behind his own. And because he knew Matt liked it, he leaned his full weight onto him, letting Matt’s chin settle on the crook of his neck.

He liked that Matt knew how to touch his body. Matt’s hands were wide and flat, and they knew all the tricks of Foggy’s body. They were sure and strong as they made their way down his chest and his stomach. They knew just the right amount to squeeze and scratch, and Matt’s lips knew just how to kiss him.

“This  _ is _ nice,” Matt commented, taking Foggy’s glass and taking a sip before setting it to the side.

“It’s the jet, right?” Foggy asked, turning his head to drop a kiss to Matt’s cheek.

Matt moaned helplessly and nodded as it hit the small of his back in just the right way. It pressed him further into Foggy’s soft body, and Matt was dizzy from it.

Foggy just chuckled again, grinding his ass into Matt’s crotch to make him whimper. “You want a proper massage, Matthew?”

“Can I just sit here for a second?”

“That good?”

“Mhm,” Matt breathed, dropping his nose to Foggy’s shoulder to drink in the smells around him. Vanilla, cinnamon, orange, sandalwood, teakwood, rose, soap, oil, husband, husband, husband. He brought his hands to Foggy’s wide hips, letting them roam under his belly and the delicious flesh of his inner thighs. He heard Foggy push a button and the jet of water increased its intensity, and his body was ever more drawn to Foggy’s.

“Good?” asked a voice, full of humour. It felt far away. The space outside his own body felt so expansive, and the air between his ears and Foggy’s lips was too cold for his liking.

Matt muttered something he lost track of as he let his hands move their way back up that gorgeous torso to Foggy’s chest. It elicited a laugh, the precious one again, the one just for Matt.

“What was that? Did you say you love me?”

“I said I love your tits, you narcissist,” Matt blushed, fiddling with the piercings on his nipples.

“All you do is objectify me,” Foggy teased, shifting to rub his backside against Matt’s dick, already half hard and eager.

Matt pressed a smile onto his neck. “Trophy husband.”

“I’m more than your pet,” Foggy huffed, quirking a brow. “I have my own law practice and everything. I’m a breadwinner.” He shifted in the water so that they were face to face now, bodies losing contact until Matt inched himself closer and settled into the circle of Foggy’s crossed legs.

“I guess that makes me the homemaker, huh?” He wrapped his long arms around Foggy’s shoulders and batted his eyelashes, smirking because that’s how he got Foggy to call him pretty.

Foggy didn’t take the bait, though. He just held Matt by the waist and tilted his head up to kiss him sweetly. Chocolate, champagne, strawberry, bacon, husband.

“Partner,” he corrected. Their noses brushed together and then Matt was being kissed again. “Just like you always were.”

The song had changed into something more contemporary, something Kirsten had slipped into their wedding playlist for after midnight when most people had left and everyone who had stayed were close friends. People who wouldn’t abandon them even after seeing Foggy’s drunken dancing or hearing Matt’s attempts to reach Beyoncé’s high notes.

Matt giggled at the change of tone, grinding as much as he could against Foggy in the slippery wet of the tub. “You’re my fatty daddy,” Matt said as seriously as he could.

Foggy laughed, too. It burst out of him so hard he nearly fell backwards. “I don’t know if that’s what she’s singing.”

“But you are, right?” Matt prodded, grabbing at the sides of Foggy’s belly.

“Sure, buddy.”

“Then say it,” dared Matt, a smile already dancing on his lips.

“Say what?”

“You know.”

Foggy sighed. “I’m your fatty daddy,” he said slowly.

Matt snorted. “Damn right you are, and I do want you so bad.”

A groan, and Foggy pushed him down into the water. He shifted to stand, but Matt grabbed him by the arm, pulling him down with him to the floor of the tub, breathing air into his mouth as they kissed.

It was a baptism. A promise of a life devoted to service.

Foggy’s hair floated around them, strands dancing, unbeholden to gravity. Like he was flying. Like he was an angel. Matt snaked his hands around his face to curl his fingers in it. Time moved slower in the water, Matt was sure. But eventually they did have to breathe, and they surfaced with a gasp.

“Come to bed,” Foggy said when his coughing stopped.

“It’s too early to sleep,” protested Matt, moving close again to fondle Foggy’s dick.

“Come to bed anyway, I’ll make it worth your while.”

He pretended to think about it, taking Foggy’s face in his hands to kiss him again before emerging from the bath and stepping onto the mat. He shook some water off of himself and a fluffy towel enveloped his head.

“Dry off,” Foggy ordered, voice low and rich. “I want you face down on the bed.”

He did as he was told, rushing to the soft comfort of the hotel sheets. They weren’t silk, but they were a high thread count of something fine. Gentler than other cotton sheets, and textured enough to send Matt’s skin buzzing when he rolled himself up in it.

Maybe he was eager, because Foggy took his sweet time rubbing lotion on himself and stopping by their little travel bag on the way.

“Finally,” Matt sighed when Foggy took up the space between his legs. He arched his back up, but Foggy just slapped his ass and pushed him back down.

“Not yet,” he said, a warm, steadying hand on Matt’s back. He uncapped a bottle and it clicked happily in the air as the song changed in the bathroom. Louis Armstrong. More brass. He wondered who of their wedding party were so into classic brass.

“New lube?”

“It’s massage oil,” Foggy reproached. “For massaging. It’s also supposed to be really moisturizing, because I know you complain about how chapped your body gets.” He rubbed some onto his hands and capped the bottle again, letting it roll onto the bed beside them. Then his hands were on Matt again, slick and warm and strong where his back had been tense and knotted for who knows how long.

Matt was only vaguely aware of the noises he was making and only because he could hear Foggy laughing at him.

It was nice, though, to be handled like this. To be touched with hands only full of good intentions. Healing hands that took everything in him that was tight and twisted and alleviated him, absolved him of it all.

And when he was done with his back, he moved lower, down his ass and to the backs of his thighs, rubbing the scented oil everywhere with even and attentive pressure. Cheekily, hands still slick, he snuck a finger into Matt’s hole just long enough that he missed it when it left.

“Foggy,” he begged, but Foggy shushed him with a hand on his back.

“I’ll take care of you, just trust.”

“Please?”

“Soon,” Foggy answered. And sure enough, something silicone and slick and decidedly not Foggy’s cock teased at his ass before sliding inside. “How’s that?”

“Not enough,” he huffed. Then, Foggy slid farther away, off of the bed and onto the floor to massage Matt’s feet. While he was there, he planted a kiss to the base of the butt plug and Matt felt himself clench at the contact.

“You only want me for my giant dick,” Foggy teased lightly, rubbing hard circles to the soles of his feet, relaxing knots Matt hadn’t even known about. “Flip,” Foggy told him, when he finished. And Matt obeyed, flopping lazily onto his back.

“Not true. You’re also really good at giving head.”

It earned him a slap to the calf as Foggy worked his way back up onto the interesting bits of his body. “Do you ever not think about fucking me?”

“Of course not,” Matt confessed theatrically. He let his head sink into the plush down pillows. “You’re so sexy, Fogs. Irresistible.”

“Even in court?”

“Especially in court. When you argue with the judge? It’s enough to cream my pants, I’m telling you.”

Foggy hummed as he trailed kisses up his thigh, taking his balls in his mouth for a second before pulling away to massage the flesh of his legs instead.

“Pervert,” he smirked. Matt stuck his tongue out, which always meant he had nothing else to say. 

A thigh in each hand, Foggy pressed his thumbs into the hollows just under that oblique muscle there (the sartorii, Foggy learned, brushing up on anatomy as his strange life circumstances deemed it necessary). He watched Matt squirm at the sensation for a second before moving on to rub the oil on his pelvis, to his belly, and up and down the long shaft of his dick before moving up to his torso and chest.

“I also really love your tits, by the way,” Foggy told him, cupping his pecs and pinching his nipples. He was seated on Matt’s chest now, his dick buried under Foggy, feeling the dull pressure of his weight but no friction.

Foggy’s touch went down each shoulder and arm, rubbing more oil thoroughly and carefully. When he finally let go, he sighed contentedly at himself.

“It’s not the same as a regular lotion, but you gotta start taking care of your skin, buddy," he said, knowing that the scarring and chronic lack of care left it nearly a lost cause. Foggy would rub ointments and cream on it himself if he had to, but seeing Matt’s skin broken and dusty worried him more than not.

"I'm fine, Foggy. I'll be better if you'll kiss the owies away," whispered Matt. He smiled up at the ceiling like he'd won something, the smug bastard. Foggy had half a mind to assault him.

So he did. With his lips. His mouth, his cheek, his jaw, his cock. Everywhere that seemed like it needed some caring.

"Honey?" Matt called, when Foggy had been biting at his abs.

"Yes, dear?"

"Would you do me a solid and fuck me, please?"

"You tart," Foggy said, wagging a finger at him and poking him in the nose. "It's our wedding night. We're supposed to making love."

"We've done that already!" groaned Matt. "Twice! Just put a baby in me and we'll call it square!"

"Are we trying for kids?" Foggy asked only half-jokingly. It was a loaded question, one that they didn’t have time for. “I don’t know if that’s gonna work.” He reached down to play with the base of the plug, shifting it around just a little.

“Once more before we go to sleep,” Matt promised. “Just the one. Scout’s honor.”

Foggy made a fuss about how old he was, how he couldn't keep up, but he was eight whole months younger than Matt, and Matt knew Foggy had at least one more in him.

He told him so as he stroked Foggy slowly, letting him get mostly hard before dragging him forward by the cock to the bed. He laid him down on the unmade bed, making sure there was a fluffy pillow under his head. They kissed for a while like that, Foggy relaxed and under him, luscious and smooth and clean. Matt’s hands stayed firm at his cheek, not wanting to break the moment.

"Hello, Mr. Foggy Murdock," he said sweetly when they parted. He let Foggy see him up close, unafraid to be witnessed so open and goofy.

"Hello, Mr. Matthew Nelson," came the equally silly reply.

"Husband,” he said, just to say it again.

"Husband," Foggy retorted.

And instead of kissing, Foggy bit him in the shoulder, ever so lightly, and lifted Matt’s leg up to play with his ass some more.

Matt took it as his cue to swing a leg over him properly and get their hips acquainted with each other.

"One more time before bed?" Matt asked, pulling away.

"It's 3 in the morning."

"And we have nowhere else to be tomorrow," he tempted. He reached behind himself to discard the toy and place it on their bedside table. He drank in the other man's gaze. He took Foggy’s hands, placing a kiss on the warm metal of the ring, and another on the warm flesh of his knuckles before guiding them to his own waist. "One more for the road?"

Foggy hummed thoughtfully. "Okay," Foggy ceded.

“Thank you,” he said reverently, slipping onto Foggy’s member. Already open and halfway sloppy from the slick on his body, mounting him felt so natural and easy. Like their bodies were just meant to slot together and stay that way.

"Tell me what you love about me," Matt said. He ground slowly, expertly, on the body he knew better than his own.

"I love your ass," Foggy replied obediently and Matt clenched around him, pouting.

"Wrong answer."

"Your tits."

"Try again."

"Your smile?"

"How are you so bad at this?" joked Matt, moving slower still. "What's your gut telling you?"

Foggy shivered, both from the knowledge he'd have to be genuine, and from the careful sensation Matt was creating between them.

"I love how good you are to me,” he said. “I love your wit. I love your conviction, your devotion. I love how much you care. I love being the center of your focus. I love that you tolerate me.” He studied Matt’s reaction, but evidently, none of those were correct. Foggy brought his hands up to lace behind Matt’s neck, twirling the hair at the nape. "What do you want to hear?"

“That I’m yours.”

Foggy smiled at him. A chortle wrestled itself out of Foggy’s throat. He held Matt’s face in his hands like he was holding the world, and Matt was held. “I love you, husband,” he started deliberately, “because you’re mine.”

“And now you’re stuck with me forever,” Matt smirked, like he’d won. He turned his face to kiss at tender palms and sank further down onto Foggy’s lazy dick. “So says the law.”

“And we both know you’re such a stickler for the rules.”

“I’ll stick by this one,” he promised, moving faster and letting the blood rush to the surface of his skin. He felt hot everywhere, wanted, loved, precious.

“Okay,” Foggy said easily. “I believe you.”

“Good.” He closed his eyes and let the moment wash over him. He took three of Foggy’s fingers into his mouth, licking at the band there and he let the permanence of it all get to his head. He let Foggy’s hands roam his body, all the unfortunate scarring, the fresh fine hairs growing from where there had once been blood and viscera, to the new padding of his stomach and ass where his domestic contentedness was starting to show.

And Matt lay all his attention to Foggy’s body in turn. The fat of his chin, the coarse hairs on his chest, his belly, soft and happy as he ever knew it to be. All of it was familiar and comforting, but changed somehow in through God’s blessing of their love. He trailed his fingers down between his own legs, where they were joined through their flesh and they became one organism, united, whole.

Somewhere, an early morning bird sang a song, and Matt fucked to the rhythm of its chatter, and he took it as a blessing. He kissed Foggy to the last few notes of Frank Sinatra, dying with the battery of Foggy’s phone still in the bathroom. Foggy’s heart strained and struggled between fatigue and arousal. Matt was greedy for it all.

The day would break soon, and their limbo would be lifted. The world was soon to wake, and the rest of the world would be made privy to their union, but until then, they had this.

**Author's Note:**

> What's this? I end the fic before they climax? Is that allowed? (I'm subversive. this is art.)
> 
> (okay disclaimer. since my last fic I can't headcanon foggy as cis. I know how i've written him before but it's just. trans foggy is too good. i held off on certain descriptions for as long as i could but wow. how does a cis penis even work lmao)
> 
> yay i guess i'm an erotica writer now. whoooppppps.....


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